Homeostasis.

Sometimes being in your 20s feels like your struggling to keep your head above water, but there will be a point when that feeling ends.

It’s 8:57 on a gloomy Saturday morning.

Today marks three years since I moved to the city.

This place taught me discipline, hustle, survival, and my worth.

The experience is great. Expanding my skillset, sublime. Growing my community—the best.

They say when it rains, it pours, so when does the flood come in for me?

As I stare out of my window, which doesn’t get too much sunlight because a bank lives directly in front of it, I imagine my life being different.

A life where I can truly smell the roses and feel like I’m allowed to take a breath. When do I get to feel that way?

Tears come to my eyes, but I only let them fill halfway. The bank has seen this image a lot recently.

If I go back to a traditional job, how would I be able to integrate into that part of society? The reason I’m on this journey now is because I couldn’t handle being restricted for 40 hours of my week, sometimes micromanaged, and in a building with even worse lighting than my home.

Still, through all of the inconsistency in the present, I learned my lesson all too well.

There’s a white rectangle in my peripheral. It’s been gleaming since my eyes [halfway] filled with tears. So, I look to see what it is.

It’s a book. The words Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself run along the spine.

Nancy, an old client, gave me this book last Christmas. She’d always say things to me like, “Get out of your head,” “Smell the roses,” and “These are your hottest years; don’t worry yourself into old age.”

She found me on LinkedIn when I was in a period of growth last year. She was a sex therapist, coach, and thought leader in the sexual wellness space. She was fun, eccentric, ambitious, inspiring, and seemingly had it all.

Unfortunately, she died five months ago.

Somehow, even the way she went out was a flex. She died at 69 years old doing something she loved—having sex. The cause of death was a heart attack, though.

I often think about her when I’m sitting in front of this window.

Today, being a sex therapist is cool, but not when she started almost 50 years ago. I wish I could ask her if she felt these feelings when she decided to step out on faith, if the backlash ever shook her to her core, or if she’d always felt balanced.

The more I think about her, the more my eyes fill with tears, so I take the book and walk to Battery Park.

On the walk, I make it a point to stay in the moment, not get in my head about things that aren’t currently in front of me, and “smell the roses,” which smelled a lot like pee in the humid streets.

I find a bench overlooking the water, and I start reading.

After what feels like 20 minutes, I notice I’m a third of the way through the book. The author breaks down negative thought loops that humans get engulfed in, the dangers of living in the past, and feeling the emotions you desire before any physical event prompts those emotions.

In a way, I feel like Nancy [and the bank] got tired of my tears and said, “Here!”

I keep reading, and reading, and reading until I get to the last page.

It’s now 2:22 p.m., and I feel completely new.

I’ve never had the phrase “everything you need is already inside of you” broken down quite like this before.

It is all starting to make sense now.

Nancy lived a successful, exhilarating, fun life because she didn’t allow herself to perceive life in any other way. She transcended trials and tribulations, giving her mental strength and most likely opening the doors of her dreams. Even more than that, she became the person of her dreams.

She’d always tell me life was a game, and at the time, I thought it was some rich people, capitalist bullshit.

Now, I realize I wrote off most of the advice that many people like her gave me because I wasn’t mentally strong enough to take it.

Now, I realize homeostasis starts with me.

And Nancy reminded me of that again today.